


you don't have to be scared you're not enough

by Crystalinastar



Series: Only Us (Birdflash) [4]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Barely Lethal Fusion, Based on a Dear Evan Hansen Song, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Sort Of, no editing we die like roibns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 08:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18206042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalinastar/pseuds/Crystalinastar
Summary: Dick is living the life, as Robin, Batman's trusted partner. He gets to travel the world, solving crimes! How could he not be? But when he and Bruce take on a case in Central, where he has to go undercover to investigate Wally West (aka Kid Flash), he begins to reconsider his take on life.~Slightly self-indulgent Barely Lethal AU





	you don't have to be scared you're not enough

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again! This is continuing my pre-show streak, in which I give updates before all of my Mamma Mia! shows. Have ANOTHER multichap fic!

_Dick dodged and danced around Bruce, the only thing his small form seemed to be good for. He grit his teeth as he launched himself forward, his fists almost,_ almost _colliding with Bruce’s chest. He landed as light as a cat, steadily moving himself out of Bruce’s zone._

_He needed a game plan. He was fighting_ Batman, _how could he beat Batman at his own game? What did he have that Bruce didn’t?_

_His eyes widened. It was so obvious._

_By the time he noticed his error, Bruce was already acting defensive and flighty, not on the offense as much. Dick let his muscles relax._

_It was a guaranteed open spot, so Bruce threw himself at Dick. Dick leaped into the air and did a flip for show, before landing and sweeping Bruce’s legs out. His mentor hit the training mat with a satisfying thump._

_Bruce grinned from his precarious position on the ground, making him look more like Brucie than Batman. He schooled his expression quickly, twisting it back into that familiar blank expression, though much looser. “You’ve done well. I expect you ready to go tomorrow by eight o’clock sharp. Understood?”_

_Dick’s laugh bubbled out of his chest. Finally, after a year of training, he’d succeeded. “Sir, yes, sir!” he said, saluting Bruce._

_He was heaving, his legs were on the verge of collapse, and his entire body ached. Dick loved it. He loved the quick thrumming of his pulse, the adrenaline that shot through his veins, the air ripping past him as he flew. He knew he was going to love being able to put criminals behind bars, the wonderful floaty feeling you get when someone breaks out into a beaming grin because of what you’ve done._

_He’d worked hard for this moment; he’d earned it._

_Soon, he would take to the streets, using a moniker to honor his parents._

_He would be Robin._

 

* * *

 

“We’ll be going to Central,” Bruce announced over breakfast. (Translation: “We have a case in Central.”)

Dick quit repeatedly chewing his waffles, courtesy of a local Waffle House, and swallowed. “Will we be seeing the Flash?”

“We’ll only be there briefly,” Bruce responded. “I still expect you to do all your homework, even on vacation.” His body language was infuriatingly still, his hands folded calmly on the table. He took a swig of his orange juice with all the poise he would never expect from someone drinking orange juice in Waffle House at five in the morning.

He saluted Bruce. “Can do, boss.”

Later, in their safehouse, Dick used his laptop to hack into the Batcave’s network (he didn’t feel like actually getting up to use the computer designated for Bat-Stuff in this warehouse), and he scrolled through files concerning Central.

The Flash was kinda redundant, actually. Bruce had contingency plans upon contingency plans for the Justice League, so theirs were the first files Dick had read. Blah blah blah, Barry Allen, blah blah blah, forensic scientist.

The Rogues were more interesting. Their leader was Leonard Snart, aka Captain Cold. They, as the name suggested, were several pains in the Flash’s side. However, they never put women or children in danger, nor did they do all that villainous acts.

He opened up a new file, the case itself. It was an easy drug bust. They should be in and out within three days.

Dick sighed, laying down on his stomach. He grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. It flickered into _Mean Girls_. Not his cup of tea, but bearable.

Honestly, he kind of wanted a life like that. He wouldn’t give up Robin for the world, but… a normal life, without villains and criminals and traveling every week—that didn’t sound too bad.

 

* * *

 

_The house was big. Big wasn’t too bad. He_ did _spend most of his time in a place called the Big Top. But it was big and empty, unlike the Big Top that had massive crowds that shared this thrum, this pulse that made him feel alive._

_Dick fiddled with the blanket, the blanket that was too thick and overwhelming, in the bed that could swallow him whole if he let himself slip further into it._

_A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Dick said, the words coming out a little fumbly but overall fine._

_Alfred walked in. He’d been good to Dick. He made Dick’s favorite foods, cleaned his room in the mornings, and always seemed to be awake in the middle of the night when Dick was having a nightmare._

_“Master Bruce would like to see you,” Alfred told him, calm and composed as ever. He nodded to Dick and walked back out, remembering to close the door._

_Dick was definitely grateful for Bruce. Bruce had taken him out of that awful orphanage. Plus, Bruce was some kind of superhuman or something, based on how easily he snuck in and out—he had a costume and everything! That was pretty cool._

_But Bruce also stayed holed up somewhere in this mansion the whole three days he’d been here. So Bruce wanting to see him? It was surprising, to say the least._

_Knock knock._

_Dick whipped his head around to face the door, which was open and had Bruce coming through it. In a regular T-shirt and pants, unlike the grey armor he’d last seen him in._

_“Hi,” Dick said, unwilling to wait for Bruce to start the conversation. “What did you—”_  
_  
“Are you happy?” Bruce interrupted._

_Dick stared at the floor intensely. “Mami and Tati are dead. What do you want me to say?”_

_Bruce’s posture shifted. “My apologies. I don’t really work with children much.”_  
_  
“What do you do, anyways?” Dick asked, looking back up at him._

_Bruce sat on the bed. Dick grabbed his legs, to keep himself from falling within with the added weight. No more than a second later, he felt the familiar comfort of a hand on his back, though it was almost sort of hovering there with how light it was._

_The man who rescued him wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I… it’s very delicate. Let me—let me tell you a story. There were a man and a woman, married, and a child. A small child. About your age.”_  
_  
“Is the child you?”_

_Bruce didn’t answer. “One night, they… went to see an opera. They had to exit in the middle of it, because the little boy was frightened by the bats.”_

Bats, _Dick realized. That’s what the armor looked like_

_“Except, in the alley they came out in, there was a bad man. The bad man wanted their money. They refused. The bad man… the bad man had a gun, and shot them. The little boy saw it all.” Bruce inhaled and exhaled deeply. “So the little boy decided to wage a war against all crime. He went through training when he was young, and disappeared from society all together.”_

_Dick snorted. “And then he saw the Flying Graysons fall, and thought, ‘Oh, what a poor child. I’ll steal him.’"_

_Bruce’s lips curled up in the faint traces of a smile. “And then he saw the Flying Graysons fall. He saw their son, who saw it all. The little boy, who was more of a man by now, thought that the new little boy reminded him of himself. So he wanted to offer you the chance to join him.”_  
_  
“What?” Dick blurted. “You mean—I—with you—”_

_“Yes.”_  
_  
On one hand, Dick was very content on staying in society. He could handle living in this mansion for the rest of his life. He could even rejoin the troupe if he wanted. He could see it, soaring and flipping in the air. Pop Haly announcing his act, the Flying Graysons._

_The Flying Grayson._

_If only he’d said something when he saw that man doing things to the rope, then his parents wouldn’t be—_

_“Who murdered my parents?"_

_A sharp breath. “...Tony Zucco.”_  
_  
“Would I be able to avenge them?”_

_Bruce’s expression was twisted in something else, something… maybe sad. “It’s a dangerous road. You can’t let yourself become as bad as them. Never become one of them.”_  
_  
Dick closed his eyes and tried to imagine Tony Zucco falling, like his parents did. It should have been justice. He felt sick just thinking about it. “I won’t,” he promised._

_Bruce gave him a wry grin. “I expect you downstairs tomorrow, at nine sharp.”_

 

* * *

 

“Did we really have to go all this way for this?” Dick complained quietly, crawling through the rafters. “We could’ve let Flash handle it.”

“Flash uses the police’s information,” Bruce replied, grunting as he also made his way through the rafters. “The police have no clue this is going on.”  
  
Dick scoffed playfully. “There’s this thing normal people do, it’s called calling the police.”  
  
“Shh,” Bruce hissed. Dick made a melodramatic sigh and looked down. The drug dealers were gathering.

A flash of lightning zoomed through the building all of a sudden. The Flash, presumably.

Dick glanced at Bruce, grinning triumphantly, except, when his gaze returned to the ground, everyone seemed unconscious.

He jumped from the rafters and tumbled to soften his fall. He put his finger on one of the men’s wrist. It had no pulse.

“B?” Dick called. “You might wanna see this.”

Bruce was suddenly next to him, peering down. After all this time, Dick still didn't know how he did it.

All he said to it was, “We’ll be staying in Central for a little while longer.”

 

* * *

 

_The city was eerily still for a city. Dick had always thought that either you could see the stars or there was liveliness at night, but Gotham had neither. It was just smog-filled and inherently creepy._

_He sighed, leaning back into the bed. His roommate softly snored next to him, and honestly, thank god. His roommate wasn't unbearable—at least, not as much as some of the others here—but he was definitely unpleasant._

_A frown tugged at his lips. It wasn't his fault his English words came out messy, or that his skin wasn't the deathly white everyone else's was. They just had to capitalize on it._

_Dick had decided today that he didn't particularly like America. He'd never wanted to learn English in the first place, with all of its rules that it didn't even follow, but Tati liked asking Pop to head over to Gotham every once in a while, because his family had roots there._

_His eyes closed, and for a moment, he felt as if he could actually fall asleep when—_

_A dark figure landed on the floor with a light thud._

_Dick wasn't an idiot. He knew what stranger danger was, so he was about to call for help when the figure stared dead on into his eyes._

_"Come with me," the figure, now evidently a man, commanded._

_"Why should I?" Dick questioned, backing into the wall._

_The man's voice had traces of amusement in it. "Well, it'll be better than here, that's for sure."_

_"I shouldn't trust you."_

_"It'll be better living conditions. Better meals, more meals. Hot water running all the time. You could just disappear."_

_"If I don't like it," Dick started, "can I go back?"_

_The man's eyes were covered by something white, but Dick imagined from his tone that they were crinkled, like a nice old man. "Of course. But I think you'll like it."_

_Then, he said a word that would change the course of his life forever._

_"Okay."_

 

* * *

 

According to Bruce, the news was a vital source of information for them. This was why Dick sat in their safehouse, bored, flipping through various news channels. Most of it was boring—“Stock prices rise again”—or stuff he already knew—“Many men found dead in warehouse”—so, yeah, he was having a great time.

Then lightning streaked across the screen.

Dick blinked weariness out of his eyes and sat up straighter.

“The Flash gains a sidekick, dubbed Kid Flash by the internet,” the reporter said factually. A blurred picture of Kid Flash took over. “This continues the age-old debate—”

He clicked the TV off.

Another speedster. Another speedster, _conveniently the day after the murder._

“Bruce!” he yelled. “I have a lead!”

 

* * *

 

_Adrenaline coursed through his veins as if it were blood. Dick bounced on his toes. The spotlight wasn’t on them yet, but it would be._

_“And give it up for the death-defying Flying Graysons!”_

_That was his cue. When the light hit his face, he leaped, and he flew._

_The next couple minutes felt like an eternity of flipping, twisting, and pulling himself back up into the sky. But sadly, it was over soon._

_Dick panted, a grin staying on his face. This was his family’s big moment. He wasn’t old enough to perform the triple flip yet, apparently (he totally could though!)._

_And then—_

_Crack!_

_Splat!_

_Red, red, so much red…_

_“NU!”_


End file.
